25 Realizations You Have When You Turn 25

Broad City / Amazon.com
Broad City / Amazon.com
On September 22nd 2014, I turned 25. It feels simultaneously really old and not old at all. I’m both the obnoxious girl with the terrible bob at Il Cantinori on Carrie’s birthday and Carrie’s judgmental “Just wait, honey” look at the same time. If you get that reference, congratulations, you are as basic (apparently that’s really bad now??) as I am and we should do brunch. While it doesn’t feel as climatic as, say, a 21st birthday, it’s definitely more of a milestone than 24. 24 just felt like a placeholder before turning 25. I didn’t do much reflecting on turning 24 – although I did do a lot of drinking. But now that I can rent a car without a ridiculously high deposit I thought I should ponder my quarter-of-a-century on this little planet. Because I am an educated, middle class white girl and pretending like my thoughts matter to someone other than my dog is what my census box does best.

1. My alcohol tolerance has really gone to shit, and seemingly overnight.

Apparently my days of being able to down an entire bottle of Svedka without becoming the quintessential “white girl wasted” mess at the bar everyone knows and loves are long gone. Three beers. That is my cut off. A fourth and I will be the girl sleeping in the booth at the bar. I’ve learned I can prolong this just slightly by eating a really heavy dinner, but then I’m bloated and full and just want to go to sleep anyway. In all reality this is probably okay in the long run because it will be cheaper and the 25-year-old party girl isn’t all that charming anyway, but it seems like the Tolerance Fairy tooketh away overnight and I just can’t help but wonder when or why.

2. Lactose intolerant? Guess so.

That’s new. I cut out dairy for two weeks to see if it improved my skin (Spoiler alert as if you haven’t read any blog about diet trending ever: it did). and when I re-introduced cheese into my life my stomach was none too pleased. I’ll spare you the details; you can probably put two and two together. But no more string cheese snacking for me and it is first-world-problems sad because I really loved string cheese.

3. About that boobage growth spurt that everyone else got around fourteen…

Apparently it was just waiting for me to turn good ol’ twenty-five. I have been a solid 34 A since sixth grade and without a drastic weight gain or change in exercise routine (Does that even have an effect on your rack? I don’t know, I’ll ask Google.) I am now a 34 B. I’m not complaining, it’s just new to have some semblance of cleavage. One of the nights that I got too drunk because I didn’t have a full grasp on my new tolerance, or lack thereof, I made a bunch of gay men analyze them with me. I’m not really sure how to dress them yet. Hey other medium sized boob girls out there: your advice is greatly appreciated.

4. On that note I feel like I’m settling into being more positive about my appearance in general.

I’m a red-blooded, American woman. I still have days where I look in the mirror and hate absolutely everything. But I’m done worrying about crash dieting to lose five pounds, or whether or not someone thinks my butt is flawless in my bikini. As long as I am healthy and taking care of myself I kind of like my body. Really twenty-five doesn’t feel totally different from the earlier twenties, you just like yourself a ton more in general.

5. On the flip side: sometimes, I feel like a hormonal, depressed teenager who just wants my mom.

And despite the fact that I am a grown ass woman with a 401k and your own QFC Member Card. About a month ago I cried like a baby at the bus stop to my mom and everyone stared at me. I made a bunch of strangers really uncomfortable, but you know what? I did not care. Not at all. Sometimes you just need your mom and if someone — stranger or not — wants to judge you for that, screw them. No one will ever give me advice as sound or make a tomato soup in the same way. Love you, mama.

6. More truths about alcohol.

Back to alcohol because let’s be real, twenty-something’s probably drink a lot. Or at least I do. My tolerance has been greatly reduced and I actually notice and now can predict the types of hangovers I will get. I know all of my older friends told me that this would happen but I was naïve and full of hope that I would be the magical, little unicorn who would avoid that. NOPE. For me beer and wine are fine and, if drinking in moderation, I don’t notice them at all. Champagne hangovers make me incredibly shaky and dizzy but are curable with a Gatorade or two. Hard alcohol, whiskey and vodka, specifically, render me useless. I will not be myself for at least 24 hours and should just be left alone.

7. Eye creams.

I’ve started using things like eye cream and Retinol that I previously deemed matronly or “that’s for girls who look old” but really it’s me just hoping to hang onto my ability to pass for under 21. I could still pass for 20, right? They aren’t just asking for my ID at the grocery store to humor me, right? God I hope so…

8. You begin to understand why people lie about their age.

I have seriously considered lying about my age for the second time in my life. The first is another story for another day. But saying that I’m 25 just feels strange coming out of my mouth.

9. I still avoid looking at my bank account.

I have a savings account, I’m not that sad. But looking at my checking? Yeah I cringe a little every time I go to look. I don’t think that’s ever going to change.

10. I have legitimately been making an effort to try to get my greens in, every day.

It’s not only because, let’s be honest, it feels a little validating to be able to post oh-so-filtered Instagram photos of my Evolution Fresh or my homemade kale chips. It’s also because I actually feel better when I make it a habit. My skin is better; I have more energy — all of that healthy crap I should have listened to in college but didn’t.

11. Dating, for me at least, is almost trickier because 30-something’s are now in the dating pool.

And while I understand that 30 is really not that far off it feels really far away for me. I feel like 30-something’s are so “adult” and it would be like dating one of my dad’s friends. It’s weird.

12. I’ve started seeing, or in my case maybe just noticing, more and more guys who are divorced or with kids or both on online dating sites.

In your early 20s, if a 22-year-old single guy had a four-year-old you kind of just knew what was up. Now? Not so much. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

13. I have started to look at celebrities like Ariana Grande, Kylie Jenner or Selena Gomez like a stern older sibling.

You know the late teen or early 20s celebutots? I call them babies because they look like and act like babies. SMH. I also had to lookup what SMH stood for because I’m old. But I digress. I just want to sit some of them down and give them a firm talking to about their behavior. I want to lecture them about the company they keep (Kylie, you should not be hanging out with Chris Brown. Unacceptable.) and the decisions they make. I’ve actually said, “I’m worried about her” in regard to Selena. I honestly find it kind of funny and, admittedly, a little pathetic… but I’m 98% okay with it.

14. My birthday and/or birthday party isn’t nearly as exciting as it used to be.

which, when I look at it, is kind of disappointing. I used to go all out and do a whole weekend of it with bar crawls, house parties, and overall craziness. My last birthday was a three-day affair that culminated in a group of us at a strip club. It was a blast. But now that honestly sounds like a lot of effort, we’re going to have to work the next day and I really would rather just go get dinner with some friends and enjoy some wine, not go buck wild and end up at an IHOP at 3 AM. Is this maturity; is this what that feels like?

15. What I look for in a boyfriend/partner has changed.

It’s gone from “Mad, passionate can’t keep our hands off each other, movie love” to “Someone who buys me pizza and lets me wear their sweatpants and isn’t banging a bunch of extra girls on the side.” Health insurance and a faster Wifi connection than mine at home are major pluses too.

16. Forever 21 looks like the way Claire’s suddenly looked when I turned 18.

I am officially too old to go in there. It happened. Never thought I’d see the day…

17. I rarely get drunk at bars anymore.

It’s usually at home, with my roommate or my dog, and I’m out by midnight. Going bar crawling, while still kind of fun, requires at LEAST a week’s notice and I have to have the next day off.

18. Facebook looks weird.

is starting to look the way Myspace started to look when Facebook came out.

19. I am becoming the mom of my group of friends.

I really, really want to be able to keep up with my bright-eyed, 22-year-old, baby faced friends but I can just feel myself turning into Liz Lemon. I’m becoming the old friend. And I’m pretty much fine with it so long as it means I end up with a James Marsden.

20. I judge myself (even if only for a second) when I wear anything with Transformers, Star Wars, unicorns or movie quotes on it.

And by “when” I mean “only in my apartment”; they don’t go outside anymore. My wardrobe has gone through some pretty…let’s say extreme phases but I love my Mean Girls tank top and my Star Wars shirt. I was never weird about it, at least I don’t think, but I have ended up with some pretty interesting items. I just know can’t be taken seriously, or take myself seriously, if I go anywhere other than my living room in them.

21. While it’s nice to be liked, I genuinely do not give a shit when I’m not, professional settings excluded.

I have a really great group of friends and if someone doesn’t want to be in that, I’m not going to lose sleep over it. I’m really able to just let it go because at the end of the day, I think I’m pretty awesome. Self-confidence is really nice to have.

22. I waver.

I’m having days of feeling like “25 is so young I have so much time in the world to accomplish everything, you can’t even run for President until you’re 35” and then days of feeling like “Shit I will probably die tomorrow because I am decrepit.” I do not see that changing anytime soon, I imagine that’s how it feels until you hit about 60. Maybe I’m wrong, I’ll report back in 55 years.

23. I’m still not as mature as I’d like to be.

However confident I am or mature I think I’m becoming there are still ex-boyfriends, ex-friends, or just randoms who I am unapologetically not mature enough to move past and would love to throw a drink on. It’s a short list, but I would do it in a heartbeat.

24. I regret, even if just a tiny bit, not being a little crazier during at least one (or in my case two and half) of your early, early 20s.

It’s not that I think I wasted them, it’s that I can’t get them back and if I did those things now I’d feel a little too close to a reality TV stereotype.

25. 25 looks bright.

I say that 25 is going be my year, I’m going to do so many cool things, and I’m going to leave some sort of mark. And then I eat popcorn for dinner while watching Scandal again because hey, I am 25 and you fucking can. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


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